Teenage musings
by I-swear-by-the-moon
Summary: My name is James Sirius Potter, and I am totally generic.
1. Chapter 1

My name is James Sirius Potter, and I am totally generic.

When I put the sorting hat on my head, it put me straight into Gryffindor. Where else could I have gone? I' half a Weasley, and Weasleys are in Gryffindor. The other half of me is Potter, and Potters are Gryffindors too. In fact, I'm not even sure that the hat thought about it. It just saw who I am, or rather who my parents are, and put me where I should belong.

I'm not sure that I'm particularly brave. I don't think I could do any of the things that my parents did in the war. I'm not a fighter, I prefer to let everyone else be happy and avoid conflicts at all costs. Dad says that's okay, and that Teddy's dad was a lot like me. He said that Remus would never have the nerve to stand up to his friends, and tell them that they were out of line, but he was one of the bravest people dad ever knew.

I don't know what I think about that.

Professor Longbottom said once that it takes far more courage to stand up to your friends than your enemies. I don't understand this. I probably never will.

Dad always says that when I'm older I'll fall in love with a girl with red hair. Because that's what Potter men do. I don't know much about love. Girls…Well, my mum reckons I've had far too many girlfriends. It's not my fault really, I just get bored easily (a fact that my teachers like to remind me of VERY frequently). Mum says it's dad's fault, that by naming me Sirius he was just encouraging me to be like his godfather.

That worries me actually, because mum says that I'm like Sirius, and dad is pretty adamant that I'm like Remus, and I guess I have quite a lot in common with James.

So what if I'm like Peter too?


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter two?

I stumbled on the worn stones that made up this ancient amphitheatre. Coarse tufts of grass had sprung up all around the weathered rock, giving the impression that the roughly hewn blocks had grown directly out of the hill itself. They could have, for all I knew. Three years of magical education had taught me, if nothing else, that nothing is ever quite as it seems.

Speaking of magic, this place tingled with an electrified energy, as if the memory of magic once performed still lingered enticingly on the air, sending shivers down my spine. Nervous though this made me, I couldn't help but entertain a morbid fascination with this place. I longed to descend the bleached grey steps and investigate a stain on the very lowest platform that looked suspiciously like blood.

"James!"

The voice floated eerily around me. It was magnified to a magnificent volume by the shape of the theatre, yet it was somehow still detached and not quite there.

I felt myself soaring upwards and falling rapidly at the same time. With a painful jerk I found myself back in my bedroom at home, sprawled out across the floor with my duvet tangled clumsily around my legs.

Oh. A dream then.

This thought made me inconsolably sad. I didn't know why.

Much as I would have liked to muse further on this subject, I knew that I only had minutes until my mother barged into my room, demanding that I get up, and (if I'm honest) she scares me.

A lot.

I dressed hurriedly and was already half way down the stairs before I heard the murmur of voices. Multiple voices.

I groaned loudly. Too loudly, apparently, as my mother burst through the door in the hallway and started yelling at me for "sabotaging the atmosphere" of our "rare but wonderful" family gathering.

Honestly, she REALLY needs to calm down a little. My little groan was completely harmless. Unfortunately, her little tirade on the subject of letting down the family was loud enough by itself, let alone with the addition of the terrible screeches of Ms. Black, the formidable portrait that still occupied the hallway in our London house and occasional home.

By the time we had managed to force the curtains closed, the entire house was awake, and all of the relatives who had manifested themselves in the kitchen were sadly aware of my awake status.

All in all, it wasn't the ideal start to the day. And this day was not about to get better. After the interminable rounds of greetings and exclamations of my growth that occurred without fail every time we had one of our "family gatherings", I was forced to interact with the younger members of my family for the hours before lunch while the adults caught up on all the gossip about their boring lives.

Talking to five year old children is not fun. Nor is it a useful experience, as my mother claims.

Lunch was the usual fiasco, with everyone being nauseatingly cheerful and generally annoying. I sat wedged between my sister Lily and my uncle Ron, the only two people who seemed to share my views on this particular gathering.

Don't get me wrong, I love my family (well, most of them), but I can't deal with their blatant efforts to ignore everything that's changed.

A/N: I know, it's horribly short and I'm sorry, but I couldn't manage any more tonight and it's been too long since I updated anyway. I wasn't planning to continue with this at all, but I got a couple of reviews asking me to and I felt guilty for some reason. Anyway, thanks for reading this and please review, it makes me happy.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter three

It was dark. The sun shone brightly outside, but in the depths of the Hogwarts dungeons it's never light. At the end of the corridor I could see a faint, ominously flickering light. It seemed to cast a bluish tinge over the already gloomy stone.

I stretched out a hand to feel my way along the ancient wall. The stone was oddly smooth beneath my skin, and deathly cold. I crept along the passageway as quietly as possible.

I had a feeling that now was not the time to be loud.

As I drew closer to the open door, the silence was broken by a dull hiss issuing from inside. I froze. I would recognise that sound anywhere, and it didn't bode well. It usually precedes a potion blowing up in my face, an occurrence that happens far too often for my liking.

I'm not a Gryffindor for nothing though, and I swung the door open before my nerve could fail me.

A stupid idea, as it happens, seeing as all the doors here have creaky hinges. A fact that I should know from all my night time wanderings. Unfortunately, it was too late to do anything about it now. I suppose I could have run. Or even put on the invisibility cloak that was stowed in my pocket. But of course, that would be far too logical a solution for me to possibly consider.

What I _did_ do was stroll casually into the dungeon and clear my throat loudly. Admittedly, this was just about the stupidest thing I've ever done. But as I said, I'm not a Gryffindor for nothing, and we're not a house renowned for our intelligence.

There was a tall, slender figure, draped in black, hunched over a large cauldron. Upon hearing my false cough, this figure turned to face me pretty quickly.

I'd got one thing right today; that hissing was definitely coming from a potion that was about to explode.

For the second time that week, I woke up tangled around the blankets from my bed.

Another dream?

I lay there for a while, contemplating what this could possibly mean, when, as is the trend, a member of my family barged into my room uninvited. This time it was Lily. Her bright red curls danced excitedly around her head, like snakes twisting and hissing on the head of a gorgon.

She's very excited. Today she's coming to Hogwarts with us, something she's been looking forward to as long as anyone can remember.

"Mum says that if you're not downstairs in two minutes then she'll come up here and get you."

I groaned. Loudly. It's become something of a habit of mine recently.

"That's great, thanks Lils."

She never seems to notice my sarcasm though, or she just doesn't care, so I threw my pillow at her. This seemed much more effective at getting my point across, judging by her scowl as she slammed the door on her way out.

A few hours later, I sank gratefully into a worn seat on the Hogwarts express. I really hate my family sometimes. I really don't see why they can't just leave me alone.

I forced a smile onto my face as the seat opposite me was occupied by Ben, my best friend. He sighed theatrically as he sat down. He looked at me quizzically through his fringe (which seems to have grown about a foot since summer started) and exhaled sharply.

"Blimey, have you looked in the mirror today?"

I couldn't be bothered with replying, so I just looked at him. He laughed. Loudly. I was determined not to laugh too, so we sat there for a few minutes just staring at each other, him trying to force me to crack. I was so engaged in our impromptu staring contest that I didn't notice the compartment door opening again. I did, however, notice the (albeit pathetic) punch to my arm from the newcomer to our compartment. Kate.

I blinked at her slowly.

This set the pair of them into hysterics, and I couldn't help but join in at the sound of her melodic laugh mixing with Ben's low, irregular chuckles.

The laughter lasted for several minutes, pure elation at being free at last making it hard to remember any of the troubles that I'd been grumpy about earlier. Hard, but not impossible.

The laughter faded as the train finally pulled away from the station. I let me gaze fall on the rapidly changing scenery outside the window. The blurred colours were oddly calming to me as I tried to forget all of the drama that faced me when I got back home. I could feel my heart beat calming and my breathing slow. I was leaving. That's all that mattered. I was going to a place where it's possible to go a day without a huge argument erupting. I was going home. The thing is, as much as I knew that my life was going to get a hell of a lot simpler from now on, I couldn't help but feel a little bit crushed at the thought of leaving.

I dragged my gaze away from the window and saw that Kate had been watching me with a strange expression on her face. She touched my arm gently.

"It's okay to be sad about leaving."

I swear she knows what I'm thinking half the time. It's worrying really.

"I know. I'm not sad, it's just..."

Before I could finish, my little brother barged into our compartment and started talking very quickly in an annoyingly animated and high voice that he seems to reserve for interrupting only the most serious of conversations.

"Go away, Al."

He looked outraged at this. I had no idea what he wanted, but I didn't particularly care. I'd had enough of his antics over the summer to last me at least until Christmas. I turned away, but he didn't leave. Instead, he just went ominously silent. I counted to ten under my breath and turned around.

"Why are you still here?" I practically growled at him, but he was unfazed, as always. He was looking at me, then at Kate, then back to me again, and I could see his brain working overtime, at an agonisingly slow pace.

He frowned at me as he swept his dark hair away from his face with one hand, and adjusted his round glasses with the other. I tried very hard not to laugh at how much he looked like dad in that moment, but some of my amusement must have shown on my face, because he suddenly looked very offended.

He glared at me once more with his most evil expression (which isn't very threatening) before sticking his nose in the air and stalking out.

I caught Ben's eye, who I assumed had been watching the entire exchange judging by the bemused expression that now rested on his face.

"Your family is bonkers."

"You don't have to tell _me_ that." I muttered under my breath.

Maybe this year wasn't going to be as easy as I had anticipated.

A/N:

Wow, I'm surprised at myself; this chapter is almost of a reasonable length. Although, it took me a ridiculously long time to write. I'm really sorry about that, I did intend to get it finished sooner, but I never seem to find the time...

Anyways, thanks for reading and reviews, and I hope you enjoyed this. I have no idea where this is going, so I wouldn't bother asking if I were you.

Thanks again, I really appreciate the time it takes to read this,

love,

Daisie (that's me, if you hadn't guessed)


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